Surface Exposed in the Holiday Light
by BrenRenQoI
Summary: Beneath the Surface Episode Tag: Having just been released under one another’s supervision, the team goes to Jack house for their holiday celebration. The spirit of the season helps Sam and Jack through their difficult transition.
1. Chapter 1

Surface Exposed in the Holiday Light

By Bren Ren

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Summary: For the purpose of this story, the events in the Season Four Episode "Beneath the Surface" took place shortly before Christmas. Having just been released under one another's supervision, the team goes to Jack house for their holiday celebration. The spirit of the season helps Sam and Jack through their difficult transition back into the world where rules and regulations pile higher than mountains between them during the one time of year the whole world pauses to celebrate love and family.

Rating: Teen (strong language)

Disclaimer: I only wish these characters belonged to me, but I'm only borrowing them to give them a little holiday love, so I kindly thank you in advance for embracing the spirit of the season and letting me play with this awesome and inspiring couple!

Author's Notes: T'is a difficult holiday season for me this year, so I'm purging my mental demons through fic once again. Hence, here's a little Christmas Angst for you, but as always, I do promise a happy unending! This story is lovingly dedicated to my favorite Angst lovers, Jenn, APA, and Twilight, who excel in breaking my heart with some of the best heart-wrenching stories in all the Sam & Jack fanfiction archives. Merry Angsty Shipmas!

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Christmas Eve in Colorado isn't exactly known to be a warm environment. But tonight, it feels like being in a sauna, even almost three weeks after spending a month beneath the surface of that global ice cube.

It's Christmas Eve. I should be happy. Right?

Right.

So why am I standing outside, in the cold, in a blockbuster snowstorm, slowly poisoning myself?

I've gathered with friends who are as close as or even closer than blood family. We broke bread together, we exchanged presents—complete with a twisted "Gift of the Magi" moment between Daniel and Jo—O'Neill, we decorated the most pathetic Charlie Brown special left on the Christmas tree lot, we even sang—if you can call it singing—a few Christmas carols, complete with a rendition of a traditional Jaffa winter aria from Teal'c. Daniel's three-sheets-to-the-wind rendition of _Kinsey Got Run Over by a Reindeer _was to die for.

And J—Colonel O'Neill entertained us with laughable tales of Christmases abroad gone awry over his long military career—matched anecdote for silly anecdote with my own recollections of military-brat-turned-career-soldier muddled foreign holidays. And of course, the eggnog was extremely potent—sleeping arrangements have already been pre-assigned, and we all agreed that we need to get thoroughly plastered after the mental-mind-fuck of our last mission (and there's another sign that all is not right in my world, if there weren't enough already; I'm really not the swearing type, especially not during the holidays…). The gale force blizzard set in an hour after we arrived at the Colonel's log cabin style house.

We were only released from the infirmary today because of the holiday, and then only on the condition that we keep an eye on each other and report back for a check-up first thing in the morning the day after Christmas. With unenthusiastic and uncharacteristcally witless humor, Jo— dammit, I've gotta stop doing that! — **O'Neill ** offered to host us all for the duration, at which point Daniel, with a little too much enthusiasm, suggested we go all out with the usual holiday festivities and enjoy a team Christmas celebration with all the trimmings.

But here I am now, standing out on the porch in the middle of a truly impressive display of winter mountain weather with no jacket on… smoking a cigarette.

I raise the filtered tip to my lips and draw a slow lungful of its black poison. I pucker my lips and blow out a steady stream of smoke. It's so cold out that the smoke almost appears to freeze in the air. The multicolored Christmas tree lights shining through the huge picture window tint the stream in a rainbow of colors, creating a wicked looking prism effect.

I take another slow drag and make an attempt to create those cool smoke rings Hollywood loves to use. I've done it once, the last time I smoked a cigarette, many, many moons ago. But not tonight, it seems.

"It's all in the tongue." His voice startles me so much I actually jump several inches off the ground. I hear his footsteps crunching the snow on the porch as he approaches me from behind. Then I can feel the warmth radiating from his body all across my back; he says nothing for a long while and I swear that heat is seeping all the way through my entire body. For the first time since we got off that frozen rock, my bones don't feel frozen solid anymore.

"After being cooped up in that ice box for a month, it practically feels like a sauna out here," he muses softly. The warmth of his breath wafting across my ear sends tingles down my spine and I can feel the pin-prick of rising goose-bumps across every inch of my skin.

"I was thinking the same thing," I answer softly. My head tips back just a couple of degrees, though not by conscious effort.

I lift the cigarette up to my lips once more. I've been smoking so slowly that it's only half-way burnt. I suck that acrid smoke down my throat once more, and I think I can feel my lungs blackening as they fill with the vile vapor. My hand lowers and I make another attempt to create that elusive circle. And again, I fail miserably. I want to cry, but I'm a big girl now. Big girls don't cry. And besides that, soldiers don't cry, either. So I'm doubly screwed.

He reaches around me and takes the cigarette from my hand; as his fingers lightly graze mine, their warmth actually burns my flesh. He takes a half step to my left, giving me space to turn and watch as he takes a long drag and lets it out in a series of perfectly formed "o's". He passes the torch back to me, and I take one final puff before extinguishing it in the snow piled on the railing. My mouth assumes the position and I gently puff out a bit of smoke. My eyes widen a bit as I watch the perfect ring-cloud float away from me.

"So when did you start smoking?" His voice is a little too carefully neutral, and I find myself wishing he'd consumed more eggnog. Me too.

I blow out one more perfect circle, then let the last little bit of smoke out in a steady stream that shoots right through the fading remains of the two circles I'd created.

"Not bad." I glance up into his eyes just long enough to enjoy having impressed him before averting my gaze back out at the wonders of nature's wintry wrath.

"The first time I smoked a cigarette was at the reception after my mom's funeral. I snuck one out of Grandma Em's purse and hid behind a tool shed. My brother caught me and ratted me out to Dad." I pause for a second, remembering the sixteen different shades of purple my father had turned when he first confronted me. "First Dad threatened to make me chain smoke a carton. Then I was treated to a nine hour lecture on the perils of smoking, complete with pictures and diagrams. Scared me straight PDQ."

The storm is pretty noisy, but somehow I still hear his faint chuckle, followed by the soft sigh he expels before speaking. "My old man was a smoker. Picked up my first one at twelve. I actually hit the three packs a day mark during some of my Black Ops missions." This comment surprises me. He almost never mentions his days serving in those dark forces. "Quit right after I got back from that first trip to Abydos. Cold turkey." Another light chuckle. Or more like a soft snort. "It wasn't pretty."

I turn to meet him face to face once again. "The second time I smoked a cigarette was the night I broke off my engagement to Jonas Hansen." My eyes dart away for a second as I pause to reflect. When I turn back to him, I can see in his eyes that I don't need to elaborate on that subject any further. "This," I conclude, "is the third cigarette of my life."

He stares at me thoughtfully for a while. "So…" he begins in a slow start. "Not exactly feeling the Christmas cheer?'

"Not exactly." I huff out something vaguely resembling a chuckle. "Here we are, all together, alive and well and not too much worse for the wear, it's Christmas—t'is the season to be merry and all that jolly jazz…" I trail off, close my eyes and seriously consider my next words. "I feel like I'm in mourning."

Again, he surprises me. "C'mere," he tells me quietly. I slowly open my eyes and raise them to meet his. To my wonder, I can see that the naked emotions I cannot hide are reflected right there in his eyes. I take that half-step into his waiting arms and suddenly I'm engulfed in his heart-melting body heat. I nestle my head into the crook of his neck, close my eyes and fight like hell to savor all these good, wonderful feelings I'm not supposed to feel.

"I stopped celebrating Christmas after Charlie died," he tells me after a lengthy silence. He's just full of surprises tonight. "Wasn't till Daniel started dragging me out to these holiday team get-togethers that I started doing anything you could call festive."

I lift my head, but I'm just not ready to look him in the eye, so I simply turn and rest the other cheek on his shoulder, my now-bleary eyes casting out across the flurries of snow. "It's hard to enjoy a holiday that's all about being with the ones you love… when the ones you love are gone."

"Yeah," he agrees. I can feel him rest his face against the crown of my head. "But I think I'm slowly starting to appreciate that this season… It's as much about remembering the ones you love who are no longer with you as it is about being with the ones you love who are still here." He pauses for a second, his head dropping just low enough that his lips tickle my earlobe with his next whispered words. "No matter how short that list may be." A self-derisive snort follows, wafting across the sensitive flesh beneath my ear and sending another wave of intoxicating (or maybe it's just intoxicated) tingling down my spine and into my very core.

Unable still to find words, I simply tighten my arms around him—just as a mighty gust of wind slams into us. It's strong and it's cold, colder than anything this storm has thrown at us yet, and for a split second, we're transported in memory back to that frozen hell we'd so recently escaped.

Hellish it may have been, though, there was one thing I still like about that place. One thing I still miss terribly nineteen and a half days after leaving it all behind us.

A name slips out past my lips in a tortured cry. "Jonah."

He holds me tighter still as his head dips down into the crook of my neck. "I'm here," he murmurs softly against my skin.

"No." I pull back so sharply that when I look up, I see his eyes bulging wide in shock. "You're here. But Jonah is… gone." I can barely choke out that last word, and it's only by sheer force of will that there are no tears welling up in my eyes. Yet.

His shock melts away faster than the snow drifting onto his smoking chimney, swallowed up in such deep sorrow that his eyes become as dark as black holes. Suddenly I feel guilt seizing me in a stranglehold for burdening him with my misery, until his next words force me to realize that it is not my misery alone. This is a deep mourning we share in equal measure.

"And so is Thera." I'm not sure if it's the grief in his eyes or the anguish in his soft tone, or maybe both and more, but I just can't hold back any longer. I'd been dry-eyed a half-heartbeat earlier, but the floodgates burst and the tears cascade down my face like waterfalls in monsoon season. And then I'm back in his arms, almost crushed by the force of his embrace. I cling to him just as ferociously as the tears continue their deluge, but not a sound escapes either of us for a very long time.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Part Two

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"Jack? Sam?" At the sound of Daniel's voice, I start to move, but I'm held fast and simply haven't the heart to pull away. I relax again in the embrace and let myself savor this regulations-defying moment.

"Perhaps we should leave them be." For some reason, I find the deep tone of Teal'c's voice incredibly comforting. "I suggest we begin preparing O'Neill's hot buttered rum. They are certain to need the warmth upon returning indoors."

There's a quiet pause as Jo—dammit! —Jack—damn, damn, double damn! —O'Neill and I continue to cling to one another and the storm around us rages on. "Yeah," I hear Daniel agree; after a few moments, he adds, "You know, there's another holiday tradition I think they both could really use tonight." He elaborates no further; I can hear their footsteps retreat and the sound of the door closing a couple seconds later.

A few silent seconds tick by. I sniff a couple times and drag my hand up to wipe away the nearly-frozen residual moisture from my cheek. Just before I can try lifting my head again, I feel his hand slide up my neck, his fingers raking through the short, short remains of the blonde locks I'd been growing out for so long. It had almost been long enough for me to have to tie back according to uniform regulation code, and I had been growing rather fond of the way it accentuated my femininity. Quite the monumental mental milestone for me. And now it's gone, like it had never existed. Just like those alter-egos we're mourning now.

So I simply hold still a bit longer, enjoying the feel of his fingers as he tenderly massages my scalp. I feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard, and I catch the way his breath hitches, and I know his actions are comforting him as much as me. I finally manage to pull my head up off his shoulder, but only long enough to turn and bury my face against his neck once more. He turns his head in toward me to rest his cheek against mine.

For one wild crazy second, I am terribly tempted to turn my head up those scant inches it would take to press my lips to his. The urge is so strong, so powerfully undeniable that my heart starts racing in anticipation before I can convince it that nothing of the sort will happen.

It can't.

Not between Major Samantha Carter and Colonel Jack O'Neill.

My heart starts breaking all over again, and I curse Jonah and Thera for never taking advantage of the opportunity their false identities had provided. Not even one damn kiss to hold onto. God, we were such idiots.

No.

They were.

They are not us, we are not them, and they never really even existed to begin with.

"How can it hurt so much to lose someone who never existed?" Hearing the words coming from my own mouth is a surprise. I hadn't intended to voice those thoughts. Not now, not ever.

"Seemed real to me." I gasp at his words; as I open my mouth, the taste of our mingling breaths tantalizes my tongue.

My cheek slides up across his ever so slightly, and I'm sure only a few millimeters remain in the scant space between his lips and mine. "Me, too."

One of his hands slides up my neck to clasp my cheek. One tiny little tear I didn't know I still had left finds its way past the corner of my lid and begins to trickle down. His thumb brushes away the errant drop, and I lean into his touch. He draws me back and gifts me with what is truly the warmest smile I have ever seen.

"Merry Christmas, Sam." His voice is so soft, I see his words on his lips more than I hear them.

I return his smile, feeling it radiating from me from both inside and out. I haven't felt so sincerely at peace in a very, very long time.

"Merry Christmas, Jack." Funny, it's been a good couple of years since I've spoken his name, but tonight, it feels so good, so… natural.

His other hand comes up to frame my face as a few wayward snowflakes drift between us. He draws me toward him, and I am certain he can both see and hear my pulse thundering through my veins as the space between us closes. Then he tips my head down just the tiniest bit before pressing his lips against my forehead.

My eyes fall shut and I turn my head just enough to touch my lips to his cheek, only a hair shy of the corner of his mouth. For a moment frozen in time, we hold still, the circuit closed between us, and I wish with all my heart that this moment would never end.

But as all good things do, this moment, too, does pass. Jack pulls away first; first his lips, then his hands, and suddenly I shiver rather violently. This makes him chuckle, his grin becoming decidedly wry as he starts to shrug out of his jacket. "Even if it is a hell of a lot warmer here than back in that ice pit, it is below freezing," he tells me with a caustic tone that is softened only by the twinkle in his eyes.

He drapes his jacket around me, and every last hair on my arms leaps straight up to absorb all of his precious body heat lingering in the lining's material. "Thanks," I tell him with a roll of my eyes.

Then I let him lead me back across the snow-covered deck; to my delight, his hand comes up to the small of my back as he guides me up the steps. When we reach the door, that hand slides around to open it, and as we step through the entrance, his other hand slides along my arm until I feel his fingers curling around mine. I smile, feeling almost strangely shy as he closes the door behind us.

He leads me through the dining room, where I drape his jacket across a chair, and into the kitchen, where Teal'c and Daniel are standing at the stove. Well, Teal'c is standing. Daniel is swaying, and not at all in time with the crooning of Bing drifting in from the stereo in the living room telling us his dreams of the white Christmas that we've been blessed with.

Teal'c gently ushers Daniel aside and prepares four mugs of the hot buttered rum; they'd prepared it from a recipe that had been handed down from Jack O'Neill's great-great-great grandfather. Jack takes a mug from Teal'c and passes it to me, and I don't bother trying to keep our fingers from brushing together as I carefully accept the hot beverage. Nor do I bother trying to deny the fact that I really liked that little electrical jolt that sparked between us at the contact. In fact, I'm feeling so good at this point that I don't even try to hide my smile, from myself or him.

He's still smiling back at me as he takes his mug from Teal'c after helping Daniel grasp his mug in his less than steady hands. Amazingly, he hasn't yet spilled a drop, even though his sway has been slowly but steadily growing broader. Teal'c takes the last mug and Jack lifts his own in the traditional symbol for an impending toast.

"To the best team… and friends it has been my honor to serve with." We all freeze, even Daniel, at those provocative words. Then, as one, we lift our mugs and clink them together, pull them back and take our customary first swallow.

Oh, how good it tastes. Great-great-great, even. Jack's grandfather would be proud. And Teal'c was absolutely right; we definitely need its warmth after standing outside in that storm for so long. A low hum of appreciation rumbles through my chest as I take a second sip.

From the living room, the next track of music begins, catching my immediate attention. It's my favorite arrangement of a melody I've played every Christmas since I first heard it a few years ago: Sarah McLachlan's rendition of "Song for a Winter's Night." Technically, I suppose it's not a Christmas carol, but it's quite beautiful all the same; as I mentally flash through the lyrics, it hits me that this is probably the single most perfect piece of music for this particular occasion.

It's only now that I realize my hand is still clasped in Jack's as I pull him out toward the living room with a slight nod of my head. He smiles as he follows my lead, and we're standing in front of the deliciously warm fireplace as the poignant lyrics of the first chorus begin.

"If I could only have you near… to breathe a sigh or two…" I bring my hand, the one with the mug still clasped in it, up behind him as we turn to stand face to face. He's still smiling as he lifts our clenched hands up in the middle space between us while the song plays on. "I would be happy just to hold the hands I love on this winter night with you…" I glance down as our fingers intertwine together, then back up into his smiling eyes as his mug-clasping hand comes up around me, too.

We begin swaying lightly with the next verse, our feet shuffling just slightly as we make certain not to stray too far from the fire's warmth. "My glass is almost empty," Sarah sings, prompting me to lift my mug up over Jack's shoulder for another slow, cautious sip. Jack follows suit, though he pulls back to draw his cup up to his mouth in that closing space between us. As this verse ends with lyrics that speak of words of love, Jack reaches up behind me to set his cup down on the mantle; then he takes my mug out of my hand and sets it next to his.

"If I could know within my heart… that you were lonely, too…" His arm snakes around my waist to draw me ever nearer, though our bodies aren't quite touching yet. "I would be happy just to hold the hands I love… on this winter night with you…" My empty hand slides up to his shoulder and he draws our joined hands even closer to our center; we're close enough now that I can feel his chest against the back of my hand even as his is pressed against mine.

I rest my head on his shoulder as the final verse plays through the room. Jack lets his head drop down onto mine as the last chorus starts. "If I could only have you near…" On that last word, Jack pulls me in that final hint of distance to press our bodies firmly together as the music plays on. "…to breathe a sigh or two…." My heart simply melts from the warmth of this singer's beautiful vocals, and from the distinct warmth of that holiday beverage we'd just abandoned, and of course, from the nearness of this man who has become so dear to me. "I would be happy just to hold the hands I love on this winter's night with you… and to be once again with you."

A soft sigh slips past my lips as the end of the song fades away. Then Daniel's voice interrupts the spell; for a change, though, his words and timing are impeccable.

"Hey, Teal'c, look! They're standing under the mistletoe!"

I raise my head and glance across the room at Daniel, who is pointing at something directly over mine and Jack's heads. I look up and can't help but laugh out loud when I see the sprig of Christmas vegetation dangling right over us.

"Daniel Jackson informed me that it is a Christmas tradition for a man and woman to share a kiss should they be caught beneath mistletoe together," Teal'c expounds for us. I look back down to find Jack staring at me with a curious look.

"Well," he finally says, "it is tradition." An inviting smile steals across his features. "And one of my personal favorites," he adds with a wink.

We both glance back at Daniel and Teal'c, giving them a soft smile of thanks before turning back to one another. His head lowers and I reach up to meet him half-way. Our lips meet in the middle, our breaths mingling as our mouths slowly merge. He tastes sweet and smoky and even more intoxicating than any of the drinks we've consumed this winter's night. Feeling emboldened by the spirits and the music, I bravely open my mouth beneath his and my tongue slips forward to lightly explore the contours of warm smooth flesh pressed against me. His tongue grazes mine, and if that earlier little electrical jolt had sent sparks flying between us, this contact carried the full force of a gamma ray burst that literally made me weak in the knees. Only Jack's arms around me supporting the vast majority of my weight hold me upright.

We're still kissing when Daniel's voice just penetrates the foggy haze that has enveloped by brain. "What happens on Christmas stays on Christmas."

I think that's what he says, anyway, before the sound of retreating footsteps fade down the hall. And then our team mates are completely forgotten as a low moan rumbles through our chests, and I haven't the faintest clue whether it originated from him or me. The fire's glow isn't all that is keeping us warm as we let ourselves get lost in this moment, lovingly underscored by my favorite Christmas carol…

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Let your heart be light  
From now on,  
Our troubles will be out of sight  
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Make the Yule-tide gay,  
From now on,  
Our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,  
Happy golden days of yore.  
Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years we all will be together  
If the Fates allow  
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.  
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

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Fin ~

Merry Christmas!


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